Phantom Of the Opera II
by The Grey Writer
Summary: This story takes place a day after the movie, book, play ends.


In the harrowed, darkened chamber inside the mirror houses a solitary man. One would concur that he was trying to escape the world; to be alone. That one has thought right. In his cold, lifeless hands wrinkled with all of his many lifelines, lay a silver ring. It had diamonds and such at the very front of the ring.

"Why… why… why did she…?" He pondered to himself. He had black hair in a large, frustrated mess. If you noticed his face, the left side of his head was balding slightly. His face there was also horridly disfigured. He looked as if he had been through a hellish ordeal, his face wet in tears and solemn, wordless.

That solitary man was Erik Destler, known commonly to the patrons in the Opera Populaire with the infamous name, The Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter One: Reminisce

"Meg…I miss the Opera Populaire," sighed a beautiful brunette.

"I know, Christine," replied a blonde haired, "angel" as some called her, which appeared to be Meg.

"What shall I do now?" Christine Daae sat down on a nearby bench in the park. It was a cold, gloomy day. Both girls were bundled up in warm clothing, for it couldn't have been more than thirty degrees.

"Well… you could pursue a career in singing… you do have an angelic voice. And you always have Raoul… You could be plenty of things." Meg was more of a comforting kind.

Christine turned to face her.

"Do you think so?"

Meg did no more than smile and nod her head in agreement.

"Well, alright then." Christine smiled back.

Christine walked back to Meg's home. She was an orphan living in the dormitories of the old Opera Populaire. She had no one else to turn to but Meg and her mother, also devoted to Christine, Madame Giry. She decided to take a look around their home, as she'd never been there before.

"What's this…?" Meg noticed a slip of parchment on the desk. It was written in neat cursive handwriting.

**Dear Meg,**

**I am leaving the house for a few moments to reminisce at the old Opera Populaire. Please take care of the house for a few moments. **

**Love,**

**Mother**

"So mother's gone, now. Reminiscing at the old Opera Populaire… I wonder why she would want to reminisce…?" Meg pondered.

"Maybe she wanted to remember all of the great memories she had as she grew up here… I don't know…" Christine added.

"You may be right, Christine. You may just be right."

Madame Giry walked into the dark chamber down the stairs and into the boat. She rowed down the stream gently, and to her surprise, the phantom's quarters were empty.

"Where is Erik…?" she asked herself. Then abruptly, she remembered—in the yet secret, desolate chamber in the complex of his lair—behind the third mirror.

She got up from the boat and flipped some curtains to reveal what was behind each mirror. The velvet red with gold trim did nothing more than conceal two mirrors—shattered mirrors.

She confirmed her suspicions as she turned the third and final curtain to the right—and there were edges of shattered glass all around it. There was a stairway leading to an even darker chamber. There was but only one windowpane, and it was covered by the curtain. There were a few torches lining the walls, but only two were lit.

Erik noticed some footsteps; someone was trotting along the cold, hard stairs and descending to his hell.

"Whom is it?" Erik had a sort of a sobbing tone of voice following that comment. It also sounded as if he was laughing while he spoke.

"It is I." With those three words, Erik was no longer suspicious of the Madame.

"Ah. Madame, welcome back. So, have you come to face a trial of hell, as I am? Or are you here to bid me farewell and desert me, like my mother? Or have you perhaps come to save me from this eternal nightmare? After all, it has got to be one of the first two, for I hardly believe a high class woman such as yourself would rescue a gargoyle like me from the fiery pits of hell."

"No. I am not doing either one of the three. I have come to help you," said the Madame in a soothing, warm voice.

Erik laughed madly.

"And how might that be, Madame! How will you help me!" He started out laughing, but his laughter soon descended into sobbing.

Madame Giry did nothing but stare at the cold cement floor.

"…"

End Chapter One.


End file.
